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“You look a little sad.” Patrick leaned forward and tilted her chin up with a free hand so that he could look into her eyes. “Do you miss Leo?”
Emma struggled to form words in answer. All she could think of was the feeling of Patrick’s warm hand on her chin and the sight of those beautiful blue eyes, now darkened into their stormier shade, looking at her.
“Um, no.”
“Good. I was going to offer to buy you another one.”
Emma almost couldn’t tell if Patrick was joking. Then he grinned and took his hand away, and she laughed.
“What a kind offer. I think I’ll settle for more pizza, though.”
The rest of the dinner passed in pleasant conversation. Emma kept to surface-level topics, as always, but today she found herself wishing that she could tell Patrick something real. Each of his stories about his childhood, his college days, or his time building LWC was fascinating, and she wished she could reciprocate with something from her own life. Even though her life felt highly uninteresting compared to his.
When they couldn’t eat any more pizza, Patrick took the boxes to the kitchen, waving off Emma’s offer of help. When he returned, he asked to stay at the table for another moment, then disappeared into another room.
Maybe this was Emma’s chance. For a moment, she considered trying to pull off the painting switch now, but there was no telling how long Patrick would be gone and it would take some time to retrieve the forgery from the lobby and make the switch. More than that, Emma didn’t want to switch the painting. As she waited, her mind came up with impossible idea after idea to avoid stealing Aurora from a man she was coming to respect and care about deeply.
“Okay, you can come out now,” Patrick called from behind the door. Emma got up and crossed the room to the door. When she opened it, she was surprised to see that it wasn’t another room at all, but a balcony with a spectacular view of the city. Patrick has started a fire in a small brazier in the center of the balcony. Two white chairs stood on one side, while a loveseat stood opposite. There were thick, fluffy blankets on each seat.
The clear night sky above, studded with a thousand shining stars, added to the romantic ambiance. Emma almost couldn’t believe her eyes.
“This is beautiful,” she breathed. “I don’t know how you come in to work at all with a house like this.”
Patrick chuckled but didn’t answer. Emma glanced back at him and noticed that he was standing by the door. He seemed to be giving her the space to choose an individual chair or a loveseat.
Suddenly, the simple decision took on weight. If Emma sat in a chair, the night would stay pleasant but friendly. If she sat on the loveseat, it would veer towards romance.
Emma knew she should sit on the chair. She already felt terribly conflicted about stealing the painting, and if she and Patrick became romantically involved any more than they already were, it would only become more difficult. It was the same logic that had led her to escape Patrick’s kiss at the gallery.
Emma steeled herself and made her way to one of the chairs.
CHAPTER 12
PATRICK
Patrick stood by the door and waited patiently for Emma to choose where to sit. He kept his face a calm, pleasant mask, but inside his thoughts were racing. This evening had already felt almost magical, even though they’d done nothing more than look at art and eat pizza. It was hardly the height of romance, but it still felt like it.
Now, he wanted nothing more than to take Emma in his arms. He wanted to listen to her talk in that sweet, gentle voice. He wanted her to tell him all about her history, even though she seemed to avoid sharing personal details. He wanted to run a hand through her luscious curls and plant kisses on those gorgeous lips, along her soft pink cheeks, down the curve of her neck…
Patrick didn’t know if Emma wanted that, too. As much as she leaned toward him, as much as she blushed when he complimented her, even though she’d kissed his cheek after the gallery visit, she still seemed to be holding something back. She dodged his personal questions and hadn’t initiated any kind of physical closeness.
So, Patrick had made a plan. He offered her a choice: sitting alone on a chair or with him on a loveseat. If she chose the loveseat, it would be a clue that she wanted to be close to him, too.
Now, after a moment’s hesitation, Emma circled the fire toward one of the chairs. Patrick felt his heart sink. This could be a pleasant evening, even if nothing happened between them, but once again he worried that he was imagining the spark he felt between them. Perhaps Emma just thought of him as her colleague, even her boss, despite everything.
And then Emma continued, past the chairs and around the fire to the loveseat. She sat and tucked her legs beneath her, then raised her gaze to Patrick’s. There was a kind of daring in those big brown eyes, even a challenge.
“Care to join me?”
Patrick very much did. He crossed to her and sat beside her, then pulled a blanket over both of their laps.
“There’s nothing like a warm fire in winter,” Emma mused.
“Definitely.”
“Once, when I was a teenager, I went to a bonfire party. All the other teens were drinking and flirting and making out, but I just wanted to sit by the fire and watch it flicker.”
Patrick seized on the glimpse of Emma’s past like it was a precious diamond.
